Coming Undone
by KiwiBandit
Summary: Five years after monsters returned to the surface in peace, Frisk, now thirteen, struggles to cope with painful emotions brewing in her head from the traumatic horrors she faced underground. With Flowey in tow and a familiar dark presence attempting to take hold of her mind, will Frisk lose control of herself and become consumed by the nightmare looming over her soul?
1. Reasons

_As a quick little warning, this has heavy spoilers for Undertale so make sure you finish playing or watching the game before you read on. Also, should just point out, Frisk is not mute but she does have a subtle manner of speaking, in case there's any confusion there._

 _Anyway, here we go._

 ** _Coming Undone_**

 _Chapter One: Reasons_

* * *

"Frisk, dear, I worry about your hearing, as you seem to never understand me properly."

Frisk closed the front door to the house gently as she heard her mother's voice coming from the kitchen. Immediately, her mind began trying to piece together the things she'd done before leaving to spend time at the park this evening, trying to find a potential reason for Toriel's tone. Cringing, she attempted to sneak quietly to her room to escape another lecture, but with each creak of the floorboard coming from every small step she took, it became blatantly clear to her that getting to her room without being caught was a foolish, foolish dream.

"I suppose I have you to thank for this being near the refrigerator?" Toriel grumbled, appearing from the kitchen doorway with a small sock dangling in her fingertips. Her face was curled up in a disappointed pout, and her eyes almost spoke volumes of frustrated words for her without needing a voice of their own.

Frisk gulped, feeling her mother's gaze on her. "... U-um, just forgot..?" she tried.

It didn't work. "You expect me to believe it to be so simple, to forget a speech given to you on a daily basis?" With a huff, Toriel handed the sock out to her daughter, who nervously took it from her grasp. "Honestly dear, 'dirty clothes go in the hamper' should not be so easy to misunderstand."

With a sigh, Frisk began to make her way down the hall and to her room before she heard her mother loudly clear her throat from behind, a basket with an assortment of clothes jumbled inside held firmly in her hands. Taking the hint, the teenage girl groaned and let Toriel follow her through the house, stopping just outside of her room door. She flinched, hearing a familiar voice almost cackling from within, and with a heavy breath, she pushed her way inside.

"Not even five seconds between getting home and being chewed out. That's a record breaker if I've ever seen one!" came Flowey's sinister voice from a nearby desk. Sitting firmly inside of a dusty flower pot, the sickly plant had a proud grin plastered on his face, almost as though he were thrilled to hear Frisk getting the business from her mother. "Better keep your disgusting clothes where they belong, lest they be as forgotten as you."

Trying her best to ignore his words, Frisk lazily kicked her shoes off and shoved them just under her bed. Toriel followed behind her, giving Flowey a cold glare as soon as she made her way into the room.

"Good evening, creature," she growled. "Being as awful as ever, I take it?"

Flowey huffed. "Someone's happy to see me. How was dinner? Did you finally realize how awful your cooking is?" He put a leaf up to his mouth and chuckled. "Or maybe your denial is as strong as the smell from this little freak's shoes."

Frisk blushed and kicked her shoes even further under her bed.

"I still do not understand why you insist on having that wretched creature around," Toriel hissed, dropping the basket to the floor just beside her daughter's closet. "It certainly isn't because you are struggling for friends. If you were not so set in your choice, that thing would be burning in our fireplace by now."

After a nonchalant shrug from Frisk and a mocking sob from Flowey, she let out a long-winded sigh, crossed her arms just under her chest, and made her way around the center table toward the door. "Well, try not to stay up too late my child. It may be the weekend, but we have errands to run first thing in the morning, and I do not want you suffering with a headache and tired eyes all day."

Flowey threw his head back and gave a haughty laugh. "Oh no! A headache! However will Frisk survive!? CALL AN AMBULANCE!" As Toriel groaned and shut the door, the sentient flower calmed his laughter and paused for a moment, seemingly in thought, before spinning to his left and eyeing Frisk with a curious gaze. "Old hag has a point though... why DO you keep me around? I've just been sitting here wasting away for, what, a few weeks now? And yet you stay locked in your room with me all day, letting me remind you how pathetic you are. You must be a masochist, aren't ya?"

Frisk remained silent, pacing to her bed and sitting along its edge, her feet just barely reaching the floor. She lazily dug her phone out of her shorts and flicked it to life, noticing six missed calls from Papyrus, a status update from Alphys, and a text from Sans reading "hey kid, im goin to a party with a group of wolves tonight. id make them some punch, but i dont know howl."

"Or maybe you think this is some kind of torture for me," he continued, dancing playfully in his flower pot, "being forced to live in your room and watch you do boring, pointless teenager things all day. Homework, texting, drawing, music, clothes, boys... all worthless activities to fill your time while you wait to turn to dust." He waited for a response, but the girl still said nothing. "Or maybe you ARE a masochist, and you get some sick perverted thrill from my demeaning words," he laughed. "Well, you're in luck then buddy, cuz I don't have a shortage of degrading words to describe you. You just make it so easy!"

Frisk hung her head, her silence dragging on. His words seemed to be getting to her, and she quietly put her phone down onto her lap, the screen still displaying Sans' silly message with no attempt from her to respond.

"Either way," Flowey added with a cheeky grin, "I'm here, and even though I'm not sure why, it's good fun to treat you like the pathetic creature you've always been. And remind you of how alone you truly are, of course." His face contorted into a sinister expression, petals practically gleaming in a twisted delight as he noticed a slight change in Frisk's posture. "Oh, has that not been clear to you all this time? You're alone. You may think that you have friends and loved ones behind you, but you really don't. They don't care about you because they aren't your REAL family. So where is that family of yours? Oh, that's right, they NEVER cared, SO WHY START NOW!?"

Frisk began to tremble. Her fingers gripped her bed sheets tightly as her body shook and her eyes threatened to burst into tears.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" Flowey chuckled. "Funny how no one's come looking for you after all this time. We haven't heard a single word from anyone about this 'Frisk' girl. It's been five years and still nothing. FIVE YEARS. Seems like a long time for parents to not care about their daughter, huh? That's half a decade y'know. And you'll be waiting for them to come find you for the rest of your life, because you and I both know they don't ca-"

WHACK.

Flowey promptly shut his mouth as a lone shoe bashed him across his face, forcing a slob of spit to soar out of his mouth and onto the floor. From across the room, Toriel stood with another shoe readied in her left hand and a frown on her face. "You have a brave tongue for one so small and fragile."

"HEY, I'M JUST GIVING HER WHAT SHE WANTS, I BET SHE LIKES IT!" Flowey shouted, a leaf from his stalk reaching up to rub the wounded side of his face. "You have some real nerve to interrupt like that!"

"Frisk," Toriel called firmly, "follow me to my room, now."

The young girl's head snapped up, what few tears beginning to brim in her eyes being briskly brushed away with her sleeve. She hastily shot up from her bed, dusted herself off, and darted across the room to her adoptive mother.

Flowey huffed. "Looking for some late night illegal activities with Frisk, I take it?" he mocked before Toriel slammed the door shut. As his laugh echoed throughout the halls, Toriel gave a roll of her eyes and snapped her head down at her daughter.

"You and I have some things to discuss," she stated firmly.

Frisk gave a nervous nod before following Toriel through the house. As the two got further away from the teenager's room, she could feel a pit forming in her stomach and questions brewing in her head: Was her mom angry with her? Was she going to force her to get rid of Flowey, or was she planning to kill him instead? What if she asked for a clear reason why Flowey was even here to begin with, what could she say? Before she could even think of an answer for any of her worries, the two arrived at the master bedroom and made their way inside, and Frisk could hear a tired groan come from her mother as the door was closed behind her. The teenager took note of the diary sitting wide open atop the nearby desk, an entire page filled with elegant handwriting and a pen sitting just over the last sentence, still wet with fresh ink. Usually her mom would jot down silly jokes, but from what little she could make out, that didn't seem to be the case. Maybe she was starting to write down her personal thoughts now?

"Please sit down," Toriel ordered with a soft voice. As her daughter hopped on the bed and faced her with a curious gaze, she closed her eyes and took in a deep breath before moving closer. "You understand that this horrible creature in your room is feeding you lies, do you not?" she asked with a look of concern.

Frisk glanced away for a moment before meeting her mother's eyes again. She nodded, which is what she assumed Toriel wanted to see, despite her mind telling her the exact opposite. She couldn't shake the thought out of her head... Flowey was saying everything she'd been too scared to believe for so many years. What if her family simply never cared about her disappearance enough to search for her? She fell into Ebott's cave five years ago, and while there have been numerous reports about the child that helped return the monsters to the surface, not a single parent had stepped forward to claim said child as theirs. Surely, her mom or dad would've recognized her on the news by now? But nobody came. She received no phone calls asking for their baby to return home, no visits from scared, breathless parents wondering if their daughter was safe, no brother or sister sending out panicked messages begging their younger sibling to come home...

Nothing.

Still, she knew well enough that saying yes would put Toriel's mind at ease, and sure enough her mother smiled warmly at her nod of agreement. "Good," Toriel chimed. "Now maybe you can answer me when I ask why you went through so much trouble to bring that horrible flower back with you from the underground. It has been nothing but awful to you, and honestly my child, I cannot stand to hear someone say such terrible things to you..."

Frisk swallowed hard. Somehow 'he's your son reincarnated as a plant and I couldn't just leave him all alone' didn't seem like the most appropriate response. But she had to think of something, she couldn't just keep quiet and assume Toriel would be alright with no answer.

"An old friend..." she choked out.

Toriel arched an eyebrow. "An old friend? A friend who tells you cruel fibs and mocks you every day?" She crossed her arms and leaned against the nearby bookshelf. "I... question whether or not you understand what a friend is, dear. Sans is your friend. As is his brother and the others, but this flower..." she frowned, "... he is not a friend, not from what I've witnessed."

"Just jokes..." Frisk mumbled, hanging her head and giving the bed a solemn stare.

"Jokes should be funny, dear. And what he says to you is anything but funny." Toriel inched closer to the young teen, her hand reaching out. "Look at me."

As Frisk slowly raised her head, she felt Toriel gently grip her chin and lift it up until the two were eye-to-eye with one another. She could see the concern all over her mother's face, and it took all of her willpower not to burst into tears and explain everything bottled up inside... but she refused. She was determined not to reveal just how awful her days have been as of late, to never worry her mom with an explanation of the terrible , frightening emotions that have been swimming cruelly in her head ever since she made it out from the underground all those years ago. Flowey certainly wasn't helping, but she knew she couldn't live with herself had she left Asriel all alone underground as the monsters finally reached the surface, after so long in the dark. Letting Flowey leave her home and potentially torment others was another thing she'd much rather not happen, for sure.

But her mother wasn't wrong; Flowey did indeed torment her. He seemed to have no recollection of what happened five years ago, how he had revealed himself to be the king and queen's son and freed the monsters by breaking the barrier, nor did he even seem to care. He had asked once before how Frisk could possibly be alive if the barrier had been shattered; surely, her soul should've been sacrificed to make that happen. But all Frisk would give him were lies and stories, remembering full well just what Asriel told her that fateful day, in their final exchange...

"You have to promise me something," he had said, eyes sunken and glowing red from the tears streaming down his cheeks. "Promise me that I won't remember any of this... that you won't let me think of what happened here today. Of you."

Before Frisk had a chance to interject, Asriel had wrapped his arms around her again and quietly whispered into her ear, "I'm so tired of wishing things were different... if I remember you, all I'll want is to go back to feeling this way, feeling whole... I don't want that. I don't want that regret or longing anymore. Please, Frisk... please..."

His words had echoed through her head for the next five years, along with the painful guilt she felt from leaving him behind as the monsters returned to the surface. Asriel freed them, how could she leave him all alone in the dark of the underground for the rest of his life? She knew she couldn't, and so only three weeks ago, unable to cope with the guilt any longer, she had gotten help from Sans and Papyrus to travel back to the small patch of golden flowers just outside of Toriel's old home to greet Asriel and bring him back with her. As expected, he had reverted into his flower incarnation, spitting cruel remarks in her direction even as Papyrus dug him out of the ground with a plastic spoon. No thanks for freeing him after years of isolation, and no memory of the events that led to their freedom. Although her guilty conscious had a chance to breathe easy, she couldn't stop the ache she felt in her chest knowing Asriel had been forced to forget all about what had happened.

Now, with all these thoughts spinning in a cruel cycle within her mind and eyes staring into her mother's gaze, Frisk could feel the tears edging closer and closer to their breaking point. Her shoulders began to shake and her lips trembled, the pounding in her head and chest growing more and more loudly in her ears to almost painful volumes.

"Frisk, dear," Toriel stammered, holding her loved one gently, "please tell me what's wrong... Do you think I cannot see the pain in your eyes?"

Just say it, Frisk had thought. Just say it. Say everything. Let her know what's going on in your head, let her know how desperately you want out. Tell her you have nightmares every night about demonic spiders and disturbing abominations, tell her how much you wish you could've done more to save Asriel, tell her about the frightening voice you keep hearing whisper in your ear every night, tell her how every day feels emptier and emptier and you've just wanted nothing more than to escape this world...!

... But she refused.

"Had... a bad dream," she mumbled.

Toriel's expression softened ever so slightly as she bit her lower lip. She looked over her daughter in desperation, hoping she would have more to say, but the only noise heard in the room was the quiet creaking of the ceiling fan up above. Three seconds of silence went by, Toriel still gently holding on to Frisk's chin as she clung to the idea that there was much more to it than just a nightmare, but again, the teenager was silent. With a sigh of defeat, Toriel released her grip on her daughter's chin and stood upright. "... You know how much I worry for you, do you not?" she whispered. She felt Frisk shift slightly, but still no response. "... Well, at least help ease my mind by sleeping in my bed tonight. I do not want you near that wretched creature in your room right now."

Frisk nodded weakly, wanting to protest about being thirteen and getting a little too old to snuggle with her mother after a bad dream, but she didn't feel like disappointing Toriel anymore tonight. "Pajamas," she called out, before hopping off of the bed and making her way to the door.

She faintly heard her mom ask her to hurry back from behind her as she absentmindedly paced down the dark hallway. The brilliant glow of the moon illuminated the house just enough for her to see where she was going, and, as a child, she knew she'd be skipping up and down in delight at the presence of the beautiful full moon; of course, that fading interest hardly even crossed her mind nowadays. Before she could even make it into her room, she could hear Flowey chuckling quietly from inside, and, cringing internally, Frisk pushed her way through the door with slight force. Without even taking a single glance in his direction, she marched to her closet and began shifting through the clothes hung up neatly in racks as the sadistic foliage whistled behind her.

"You know something I don't," Flowey cooed, "it's too obvious. Been obvious since the day you yanked me from the underground and kept me as your _pet_."

Frisk bit her lip, opting to remain quiet as she slipped out of her shorts and leggings and into her pajama bottoms.

"Yes..." he continued, "you most certainly do. You don't enjoy pain, I can see it in how you quiver like a baby when I remind you of how unloved you are. I can see how unhappy you've been, just letting the days drift by and not caring about anything happening around you. You sit there and let me torment you, like a junkie that can't get enough of a fix. So, little freak, what is it? Why do you keep me here?"

Pulling a thin white tank top over her head, Frisk reached down and peeled off her socks, tossing them into a nearby hamper filled with other assorted clothes before turning and strolling to her door. She knew there was no way Flowey could force her to answer him, so ignoring him and getting right back to Toriel was the only priority in her mind.

"You can play coy all you like," Flowey growled as the girl briskly passed by him, "because even if I have to slowly choke you in your sleep and make you beg for air, I'll figure it out. I always have my ways." His face began to contort into a demented grin, and a sickly giggle escaped his lips as the moon's glow seemed to hide away behind the black clouds of night, basking the entire room in shadows. "After all, you and I both know how easy it is to get what we want... don't we, Chara?"

Frisk froze in place at the doorway. The mere mention of that name acted as a sudden red light in her mind, tossing her thoughts into a blender and scattering her senses in all different directions. She was tempted to turn and face him, demand that he explain himself and what he meant... but her instincts told her to get back to Toriel immediately, and pretend he never uttered that name. Frightened, she snaked her way through the door and slammed it shut behind her, heart pounding and sweat threatening to trickle down her face as she stopped to quickly ease her panicked breathing. Faintly, from behind the door, she could hear his sinister voice ring out once more...

"Sleep well, my little freak."


	2. Can You Hear Me?

_I don't have anything interesting to say right now, so uh, y_ _ou look nice today!_

 _Okay story time._

 _ **Coming Undone  
**_  
 _Chapter Two: Can You Hear Me?_

* * *

"One week..."

Flowey glanced up from the newspaper left open on the table. "Yes, mumble some more, that'll help me hear you," he groaned.

Frisk stared blankly into her bowl of cereal, stirring the milk absentmindedly for a moment before letting the spoon clank against the edge of the glass. "It's been a week..."

"Yes, a week has passed, several more will probably pass too." Flowey rolled his eyes and went back to reading the article just below his pot. "If you think I care enough about you to want to play the Vague Game, I have rotten news for you."

"You haven't said... her name in..."

That got his attention. Flowey's head snapped back up to glare daggers directly into Frisk's eyes, causing the teenager to flinch and stare down at the bowl of milk in front of her. A wicked grin spread across his face, and a quiet hiss seemed to snake its out of his mouth as he leaned forward ever so slightly. "Oooh, it's been glued to the back of your mind for an entire week, hasn't it?" he chuckled. "It must really be bothering you. How lovely."

Frisk continued stirring the milk and looking away, suddenly wishing she hadn't mentioned the subject at all. For an entire week, she'd been jumping between an assortment of reasons why the plant from hell would bring up the fallen child, and what he could possibly have meant when he called her that name. But, Frisk knew well enough that cryptic nonsense was just a part of Flowey's sadistic ways, and ultimately, it was just him thinking of different ways to mess with her and freak her out. At least, that's what she'd been hoping. But after an entire week had passed without a single mention from him about it, she began to worry that it wasn't as simple as him playing her for a fool or giving her more stressful thoughts.

As if she didn't have enough of those.

She wouldn't put it past him though. As the week went by, time and time again that name would haunt her and keep her up late at night. That Flowey remained silent about it only made things worse. Was he being cryptic on purpose? She had no idea. But if his goal was to keep her mind occupied with yet another frightening possibility, giving her a plethora of new nightmares to cope with, he did a damn good job. That name... Chara... It didn't surprise her that Asriel remembered it - it seemed to be something time could never erase to him - but she could feel a link between her nightmares and Flowey's words. Chara... could that have been the one who...

No, she thought. No way.

"You've been thinking about her too, haven't you?" came Flowey's voice from across the table, his grin reaching near Cheshire Cat levels of wide.

Frisk had had enough. She scooped the bowl up in her arms and snatched the cereal box on her way to the kitchen, hastily throwing the dish into the sink and stuffing the box into a nearby cabinet. She reached down below the table and picked up her backpack, and as she threw it over her shoulder, she could hear Flowey giggling right beside her. She growled under her breath, reached over, and picked his pot up in her hands and paced to her room.

"Yeah, I think about her all the time," he smirked, "almost as much as you think about hurting yourself." He could hear Frisk whimper under her breath as she entered her room and set him back down on her desk. "Oh, it wasn't obvious that you've been having such dark thoughts? C'mon. It's SO obvious. You barely speak, you don't care about homework, you haven't been returning any calls or texts... it's almost pathetic to watch, really."

"You really hate me..." Frisk mumbled, dragging herself to her bed and letting her backpack fall from her shoulders. She wasn't sure why she wasn't running outside to try and catch the bus, she knew Toriel would be very upset if she didn't show up to class... but something inside of her just didn't seem invested enough to force her legs to cooperate, and instead, she slumped onto her bed and drew her knees up to her chest.

"I don't hate you," Flowey cooed, "you're just such an easy target. Imagine being an ax murderer and finding someone all alone in an abandoned warehouse, and they happen to be tied up and have an ax right next to them. It's just too perfect." He took a long look at Frisk for a moment, before continuing. "I mean, just look at you. You have 'friends' that are eager to spend time with you, and yet here you are, curled up on your bed with me, while I remind you time and time again how much of an idiot you are. Really, you're a masochist whether you care to admit it or not, I swear."

Frisk sighed, lowering her head and hiding her face under her arms, which were wrapped around her knees and squeezing her tightly. "Just don't... feel..."

"Sane? Whole? Yeah, I know the feel," Flowey cackled. "But you're what, thirteen? Funny that you're dealing with these feelings at such a young age, you're waaay too young to feel so old y'know." He put a leaf up to his mouth, seemingly in thought, before glancing out the window. "So what's the deal, freak? What's been going through that ugly little head of yours?"

Frisk hesitated. She knew that the absolute last person she should vent to was Flowey, and he'd only find ways to make her feel even worse. But the more she thought about it, the less she felt like protesting... it wasn't like she had the heart to vent to Toriel about what's been going on in her head, and she didn't feel like she could burden any of her friends with those thoughts either. Asriel had gone through so much, maybe, just maybe, he would know exactly what she's dealing with and could tell her what's going through her mind. It was worth a risky shot, she figured. "... Nightmares... whispering... sadness..."

Flowey turned back to face her, his infamous grin suddenly missing and instead replaced with a look of curiosity. "What kind of nightmares?" he inquired.

"Giant bugs... scary mutants... friends suffering..."

"Sounds rough," he giggled, trademark grin returning. "If only you hadn't been forced to save an entire species at the age of eight, maybe your brain could've coped with it all."

"Is it normal?" Frisk asked, lifting her head slightly and attempting to look to the direction of his voice.

Flowey rolled his eyes. "What, that frightening things get stuck in your stupid little head when you're a stupid little child? Gee, I wonder."

Though he was unsurprisingly being facetious, Frisk couldn't help but feel a relief in his words. Maybe it wasn't the healthiest thing in the world to depend on a sadistic little creep as a shoulder to cry on, but just getting the words out seemed to ease her mind, if only a little. The reassurance that she wasn't absolutely insane was also helping, and she fully lifted her head to look at Flowey now. "And... whispering."

"Ooooh, now that's fascinating," the plant hissed. "Do go on."

Frisk bit her lower lip, hesitant to say more, but the challenge of keeping her mouth shut for five years now was too great to overcome. She had to tell someone. She just had to. "Well... I hear a voice at night, every night..." she started, taking note of Flowey leaning forward, seemingly giving her his full attention now. "She tells me... terrible things."

"Yessss?"

"She tells me to hurt people, to cut their throats..."

Flowey was practically bouncing in his pot as Frisk spoke. "Yeah? What else does she say?"

Suddenly, Frisk wasn't so keen on discussing it anymore. It became more and more clear to her that he was taking some sort of twisted glee in her suffering, and all she was doing by explaining things to him was giving him more material to use against her. "... N-never mind," she mumbled before laying her head back down.

"Listen here you rotten little freak," Flowey growled, face still morphed into a sinister grin. "I don't know if you realized it yet, but I don't care about you. I never did, and I never will. You're nothing, not just to me, but to everyone. You have no uses at all, and no one needs you."

Frisk gripped her kneecaps, her nails digging into the fabric of her black leggings and threatening to tear into them and breach her skin. Any potential trust she felt building as she vented to this monster vanished almost instantaneously, and in her mind all she could think about was how much she wished she ran out to catch the bus and leave for school. She wanted to be anywhere but here, and yet, she didn't budge. She didn't move. She sat there and fought back tears, trying with all her might to remind herself that Flowey was lying, that she wasn't useless, that these nightmares were normal and she wasn't going insane... but, it was becoming harder and harder to believe it. To believe that she was wanted, when her parents never even tried to get in contact with her; to believe she was useful, when all she did was cry in her room as soon as she arrived home from school before sleeping her day away; to believe she was normal, when a voice kept telling her to brutally kill everyone she cared about and spare absolutely no one...

It became harder and harder to care about anything anymore.

"Remember when I said it was normal to be having those nightmares? Well, yeah, I was totally wrong." Flowey's eyes examined the teenage girl from head to toe, his expression still an odd mixture of sinister glee and curiosity. "Only freak shows like you let their imaginations terrorize them like that. Only the weak-willed allow themselves to be torn down piece by piece by their own mind. Look at you. Before I came on the scene, not a single person treated you like the dirt you are, and yet you slipped into this state of mind. It's pretty funny. You essentially did this to yourself."

Frisk's nails finally pierced her leggings and began to claw at her skin, tears slowly sliding down her cheeks and choked sobs escaping her lips as her body trembled violently.

"Cry some more," Flowey bellowed, "and cry, and cry, and cry! It's about time you accepted that you don't belong here, that you don't belong anywhere! There's a nice cozy spot in hell for you, and it's about time you gave yourself up and let Char-"

 _BZZZT, BZZZT, BZZZT_

"...ra... Okay what the hell is that?" he groaned.

Hearing the obscenely loud ring coming from her pocket, Frisk quickly slid her sleeve across her face to wipe the tears away before digging into her shorts and yanking out her vibrating phone. Sans was calling.

She spent a solid two seconds debating whether or not to answer, before swiftly leaping off of her bed and darting out of her room, putting as much distance between her and the sentient plant from hell before her thumb swiped over the 'answer call' button. "H-hello?" she spoke, trying her best to hide the shakiness of her voice.

"HEY KID, DOESN'T LOOK LIKE YOU SHOWED UP TODA-"

"Face too close," Frisk cringed.

She heard Sans fumbling a bit on the other end of the call before his voice came back at a more manageable volume. "Heh, my bad, new phone giving me a bad time," he chuckled. "The fact that you answered the call tells me that ya skipped class today. Though not seeing you at lunch kinda does too."

Frisk took a moment to recollect herself from the booming voice she just endured, mentally putting the piece of her brain back together before responding. "Oh... um, yeah, not feeling well," she lied.

Sans was quiet for a moment, seemingly messing with more settings on his phone, before speaking again. "You know kiddo, it's gonna get harder and harder to pass your assignments if you're not even here to get them. C'mon, you can trust your ol' pal Sans, what's really bothering ya?"

Quickly, Frisk searched through the recesses of her mind for an excuse to tell him, wanting anything but to admit she just ditched class today for no reason other than her body giving up on her. To say she wasn't expecting a call from Sans would be an understatement, least of all today. She'd skipped school multiple times before and yet this is the first of them all that she got any sort of questioning from Sans about it. "Um..." she hesitated, "I uh, really _really_ wasn't feeling well..?"

"Look Frisk," he sighed, "I'm not a big fan of school either, and believe me I'd much rather be at home right now too, but there's only so many times 'I was sick' will cut it. You need new material if you wanna keep people from getting suspicious dude."

Frisk moved the phone away from her ear for a moment and hovered her thumb over the end call button. She wasn't really in the mood to get a lecture about the importance of school - especially from Sans of all people - nor was she feeling like talking at the moment.

"Well, before ya hang up on me," Sans went on, causing Frisk to freeze in place and sweat bullets. "I want you to know that there's nothing wrong with being sad, 'kay? If you don't really feel like comin' to school, well, you really don't need to. Your well-being is more important, and it always will be."

Frisk could feel the tears getting ready to pour out of her eyes at his words. Somehow 'there's nothing wrong with being sad' hit her harder than she expected, and she could tell that Sans was being as serious as he could be. Her thumb still hovered over the big red 'end' icon, but she hesitated to hang up on him now. She had a suspicion that Sans was privy to her change in attitude as of late, and his last few sentences just confirmed it. She wasn't sure how to respond. She wasn't even sure if she should.

"Alright, should let ya go then, lunch is over. I don't really mind though, this food was going right through me anyway," he chimed. Frisk could practically _hear_ him winking to himself on the other end. "Was cool talking to ya on my new phone, I didn't think I'd ever find a use for it aside from texting everyone hilarious jokes all day. Catch ya on the flip side, kiddo."

And with that, Sans' voice was replaced with a muffled beep, before her phone displayed miscellaneous information about the call. She felt a shiver go up her spine, her mind repeating his words over and over in her head. There's nothing wrong with being sad... maybe he was right, maybe she shouldn't be so secretive about how she'd been feeling for the longest time. Maybe there was no need to. Still, she knew she didn't want to burden anybody with her sob stories, and she definitely didn't want anyone thinking _they_ were the reason she was feeling so... empty inside. Toriel would instantly blame herself and claim to be a horrible parent, which, of course, was the last thing Frisk wanted. No one needed to know, she reasoned. They all had their own issues to deal with, nobody should be burdened with it.

 _Because nobody cares._

Frisk dropped her phone in shock, her heart leaping within her chest as a sudden voice whispered from behind her. Terrified, she spun around as quickly as she could, but there was no one there. The pounding in her head returned, beating like a drum to a nauseating rhythm she had no control over, and her lips and knees began to quiver. It was that voice, it was that damn voice! The one she heard every night, whispering horrible things into her ears, demanding that she hurt everyone she cared deeply about... But it was daytime, this isn't supposed to happen! The voice would only haunt her in her dreams, as she slept, what was it doing here?

Tears finally escaped and began streaming down her cheeks. No... no no no! Not during the day too! This was supposed to be her peace of mind, when she could get away from the nightmares and frightening voice, the only time she could look forward to having her thoughts to herself. This can't be happening, not here too...

With nowhere else to go, Frisk dashed straight to her room, bursting through the door and immediately crashing onto her bed, face-down on her pillow. She seized the opposite side of it and let out a primal scream, holding nothing back and emptying her lungs as much as she could. Her entire body tensed up, and she could feel her head pulsating in a terrible pain and her lungs begging for her to stop and breathe, but her roars of agony went on, muffled only by the pillow she gripped tightly to herself. After what felt like an eternity of shouting, Frisk could feel herself grow weary and her throat begin to ache, and with her scream finally finished, she slowly curled up into a ball, holding her knees close to her chest, and sobbed. Her shoulders bounced with every whimper that escaped her throat, and her mind raced with nothing but dark, twisted thoughts.

There was simply no escape anymore. At night, her every dream was corrupted by horrifying amalgamations and frightening images of death and gruesome abominations, and when these terrors would startle her awake, she would be haunted by that soft, almost sensual voice, whispering time and time again demented wants and desires. She thought she was safe as the sun rose, but now, she realized it was just too good to be true. She desperately hoped it was a one time thing, that the voice had simply made some sort of mistake and contacted her at the wrong time, but, she knew that couldn't have been true. There was no schedule. And as she clutched herself tightly and sobbed, all she wished for was to be in Toriel's arms, held closely and being told that everything was going to be alright. Whether she believed it or not, Frisk suddenly felt her need to keep everything to herself evaporating. She just wanted to be held. She just wanted to cry. She just wanted to die.

"Boy, freaks like you make _terrible_ roommates, damn. Screaming like a banshee when I'm trying to catch up on some sleep, the nerve."

Frisk glanced up. Although her vision was blurry from the tears still streaming down her face, she could just make out the image of Flowey leaning out of his pot, staring at her with his full attention. Frisk growled, suddenly feeling a white-hot anger deep in her heart. _Cross the line_ , she thought. _I dare you_.

"You've got some anger issues you need to work out," he chuckled. "I haven't heard a scream like that since my own on the day I first saw your ugly face. I mean, you wanna talk about terror, lemme tell ya-"

"Shut up!" Frisk shouted, her voice raspy and weak. "Just shut up! Leave me alone!"

Flowey arched an eyebrow and smirked. "Oh, getting sassy are we? That's hilarious. Any particular reason it took you so long to talk back? Or were you too busy relishing in my abuse to find the right words to say?"

"Stop it!" the teenager screamed, gripping her hair in her hands and pulling at it violently. "Stop it stop it stop it!"

"You're asking a robber to just leave while he stands in front of an unguarded bank, you know!" Flowey threw his head back and let out a laugh, his stalk twisting and contorting as he danced in glee. "What a mess you are! I thought you'd only been dealing with these nightmares and pathetic sadness ever since you kidnapped me from underground, but now I can see that this is a masterpiece several years in the making! Delicious, really!"

" _I'll rip you apart!_ "Frisk roared, tearing her head up from her pillow and glaring at Flowey with hatred burning in her eyes. " _I'll cut you down right now! I will burn you to the ground! Try laughing when you're choking on your own blood, you_... you..." Frisk could feel her fiery rage and the red in her vision fade away. Her throat was practically crying out in agony from her nonstop screaming, and her body seemed to fail her as she fell back against the wall beside her bed.

"You can't believe it, can you?" Flowey smiled, eyes fixated on the teenage girl as she slumped. "You can't believe what you just said. You can't believe how angry you were. And you know what else? You can't believe how much you wanted to genuinely kill me."

Frisk glanced down at her hands, seeing deep scratches etched into her skin from how tightly she had clenched her fists. She felt sweat trickling down her forehead and her entire body shake ever so softly, and her eyes were wide open, almost held in a petrified state as the beating of her heart showed no signs of slowing.

"It felt good, didn't it? To finally say something you truly felt, to finally accept how much you wish I were dead." Flowey glanced out the window for a second, looking at his own reflection. "Yeah, nothing quite like it. The rage, the pain, the hurt. Those are the only things I felt that day. When you died."

Frisk lifted her head to stare at him in horror.

Flowey spat in her direction. "I'm not talking about you, you little freak. Oh no, definitely not. I'm talking to her. To Chara. I know she's listening..." His grin twisted into a sadistic smile. "And now you know, too."


	3. Breaking Point

_Hey guys, just wanted to say thanks for reading and for your comments! I'd start gushing but you're not here to see me get all sappy._

 _But r_ _eally, thank you so much for the support! Here's to hoping I can keep up with your expectations._

 _Okay no more blah blah from me, let's do this._

 _ **Coming Undone**_

 _Chapter Three: Breaking Point_

* * *

"Frisk, dear? Are you awake?"

Weakly, Frisk rolled her head over just enough to sleepily eye the clock beside her bed. 8:41 AM. She was supposed to have been up forty minutes ago to prepare for school. Hearing Toriel's question, she flinched, wondering just what her mother was doing home at this hour when she was supposed to have been at work some time ago.

"Do not worry, I am not upset with you," Toriel mumbled. She quietly stepped closer to the bed, glancing to her left and seeing Flowey fast asleep, stalk hanging over the edge of his pot and drool dripping from his slightly ajar mouth. Who knew he was as ugly asleep as he was in attitude, she thought.

Feeling her mother sit along the edge of her bed, Frisk gently turned her head and looked up at her. Indeed, there was no anger on her face, no sign of disappointment that she had caught her child sleeping in on a school day. Instead, with what little light that was beaming into her room from behind the curtain on the window, Frisk could make out what almost looked like lifelessness on Toriel's face, as though her entire night was spent without an ounce of sleep. It almost scared her.

"... Not working..?" she asked. In reality, she really just wanted to know why her mother looked so tired and almost vacant, but the words stayed within her mind.

"I... needed to take the day off. Quite a lot on my mind," she explained with a weak smile. "I noticed you were not standing by the bus stop yet, thought I would check to see if you were feeling well, dear."

Frisk turned her head back to face the wall. "Feel sick," she sighed. Another lie, and she had no idea what the point was anymore. Just yesterday afternoon she had sobbed into her mother's arms when she got home from work, crying on and on about what seemed like nothing, as she couldn't even get the correct words out to describe what she was feeling. She could vividly remember Toriel's face morph from one of annoyed confusion - no doubt wondering why she'd been absent from school again - to pure shock and terror as she saw her daughter charge straight into her arms with tears flowing down her face and her body shaking feverishly. Frisk wasn't sure if it was the tears or the hysteria, but she could barely remember how Toriel had reacted or what even came next. She could vaguely remember tears in her mother's own eyes, and panicked phone calls to Asgore begging for any possible help. Whether the former king had stopped by, she couldn't remember, but she wouldn't doubt that he had.

Suddenly, Frisk felt Toriel's hand gently on her head, giving her soft and caring strokes through her hair. Muffled sobs echoed behind her, and she could feel her own eyes begin to water as she could clearly hear her mother fighting back an onslaught of tears.

"My dear child..." Toriel trembled, "I love you so much... you know this, do you not?"

A tear escaped and slid down Frisk's cheek, though she did not turn to look at her mom.

"You are so innocent, so beautiful... I only wish I could grant you the peace of mind you deserve..." Toriel stammered, choking back sobs as she watched over her daughter. "If I could only stop your crying, and fight whatever could be troubling you..."

Frisk couldn't take it. Her heart wasn't ready to hear such desperate words from her mother, not after yesterday. She shook her head, causing Toriel to move her hand away, and pushed the blanket up to further hide her face as she closed her eyes. "Tired, need... to sleep," she whispered. She could hear the weakness of her voice, and feel how raspy and torn her throat was from the violent screaming she endured several hours ago; screaming that, in the end, as her throat felt as though it'd been grazed with sandpaper, she deeply regretted.

Frisk wholeheartedly expected Toriel to segue into an emotional talk about what she felt she did wrong as a parent, but instead, she simply felt her mother shift a little before standing up and slowly making her way to the door. Just before leaving, Toriel wrapped her arms around herself and glanced back, tired eyes fixated on her daughter for a moment. "Why could it not have been me instead of you...?" she choked out, before quietly closing the door behind her.

Hearing Toriel's footsteps grow quieter as she disappeared to the other side of the house, Frisk drew her knees up to her chest and let herself cry until she fell back asleep.

As the day crawled by, Frisk stayed away from her room as much as she could and spent her time keeping herself occupied with chores. She had to admit, staying away from Flowey was surprisingly effective in clearing her mind and distracting her from everything that had transpired both last night and just early in the morning. Toriel had been busy preparing for an impromptu dinner and would spend a lot of her time inviting Frisk over to test certain foods or just to talk for a while, and despite the tension in the air from their emotional chat, the two seemed to find comfort in keeping one another company throughout the day.

As night quickly approached, Frisk sat in the living room with a sketchbook in her lap and her feet delicately folded under her. She was chewing on the eraser end of her pencil, surveying every detail of her drawing of Asriel and squinting to try and make out the details of her rough guidelines along the paper. It'd become somewhat of a hobby of hers, to throw in a sketch of the former prince every now and then as she was drawing; it kept him clear and alive in her mind, and although she had doubts she could ever truly forget what he looked like, she felt it helped keep her motivated and stop her from tossing Flowey into a paper shredder.

The doorbell rang, and she could faintly hear Undyne's bombastic voice booming through the halls of her house, with the much more feeble voice of Alphys just behind it. Focused on her art, Frisk didn't even take the time to get up and greet her dinner guests, wanting to finish up before she took an hour or so to eat. A consistent artist is a happy artist, she sung in her head.

"Are you not going to greet your friends?" came Toriel's voice from the left.

Frisk whipped her head around to glance at her mother for a moment, before lazily looking back down at the sketchbook in her lap. "One moment," she mumbled, still lightly chewing on the eraser of her pencil.

Toriel strolled over and peered down at Frisk's sketch, sighing happily as she recognized her son's face, every detail recreated in pencil and not a single hair out of place. "Please dear, it is rather rude to not welcome your friends to dinner. Why not take a small break after you get dressed?" she smiled.

Frisk grumbled under her breath, pushing her sketchbook to her side while spitting the pencil out of her mouth and watching it tumble to the carpet. She got up, dusted herself off, and made a beeline to the bathroom next to the hall. She could hear Toriel asking her to hurry from behind, and with a roll of her eyes, Frisk pushed her way through the bathroom door and shut it behind her.

What a mess, she thought, taking a long hard look at herself in the mirror. Her eyes had sunken bags under them, and her dirty, greasy hair had multiple strands out of place and bangs that almost blanketed her left eye. She glanced down at the long shirt she was wearing, scrunching her face up at the realization that she almost went out to meet her friends for dinner without even having any pants on. She felt a red hue creep its way over her face, hoping she could make a mad dash to her room without catching anyone's attention. Snatching a brush from the side of the sink, she slid it through her hair and did what she could to salvage something pretty from the train wreck that was on her head, managing to at least keep it down and straight as opposed to wide and poofy. She cringed at how dirty it felt, and she suddenly wished she had paid more attention to Toriel's announcement that they were having company over for another big dinner. Probably should've taken a shower earlier, she thought.

Gently nudging the door just enough to peek outside and check for anyone around, Frisk snaked her way through the hallway, quickly taking a moment to snatch her sketchbook from the couch, before creeping into her room and locking the door behind her as she tossed the book to her bed. She dashed over to her closet and reached up to collect her leggings and shorts, feeling a pair of eyes on her back as she did.

"Since when did you become an exhibitionist?" she heard Flowey giggle from behind. As Frisk blushed and began dressing her lower half, he put a leaf up to the side of his head - as though he had an ear - and hummed softly to himself. "Y'know, amusing as it is see you pathetically attempt to look nice, it's pretty obvious you don't like having company over. Funny, you used to pretend you actually cared about those 'friends' of yours."

"I do care," she growled.

"Riiiight, and friendliness pellets are totally harmless."

Frisk spun around and angrily jammed a finger in Flowey's direction. "You don't know anything about me! Stop acting like you do!"

"Oooh, I like the new you, very fun banter!" he laughed. "And yeah I guess I don't know all that much, other than the obvious, like how gross your hair looks and smells right now. Boy are you in need of a shower, yikes."

Realizing she had the power to simply walk away and stop listening, she strolled over to her room door and grabbed the doorknob, before suddenly pausing and lowering her head to stare intently at the floor. She could feel Flowey's eyes on her back, probably wondering what the hold up was, and after a second of internal though, she turned her head just enough to see him out of the corner of her eye. "... Is it her?" she asked with a shaky voice.

Flowey's grin weakened and his brows furrowed, though he stayed silent.

Frisk took that as a sign to go on. "The voice, the one I hear all the time... is it her? Is it... Chara?"

"What does it matter to you?" he huffed. "It's not like you listen to it anyway. For someone who's been told to kill people on a daily basis, I'm noticing a distinct lack of dead bodies around you." He rolled his eyes, letting his grin return as he arched an eyebrow and sighed. "You're not a very good listener, but you _are_ a very big idiot. Hey, at least you have _that_ going for you."

Frisk intertwined her fingers for a moment. She knew she should've been out in the kitchen, enjoying dinner with her friends and mother, but the curiosity of her and Flowey's 'conversation' last night kept her in her room, unable to shake the idea from her head that there was more going on than she was even aware of. She turned to face him completely now, taking in a deep breath and crossing her arms over her chest. "Do you know what's wrong with me?" she asked, voice weak with nerves.

"Are you really that stupid? It isn't obvious yet?" he groaned. "Here, let me say it clearly so you can understand: DUMB KID SEES SCARY THINGS, SCARY THINGS SCARE DUMB KID, DUMB KID REMEMBERS SAID SCARY THINGS YEARS LATER, HAS BAD DREAMS ABOUT IT. C'mon. At least _pretend_ to know something every now and again."

"I get that," Frisk mumbled, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her shorts and slowly walking closer to Flowey, avoiding eye contact and tilting her face towards the floor. "But... how does she talk to me? _Why_ does she talk to me? Why _me_...?" For a moment, her mind replayed the words Toriel had sobbed to her earlier that morning, and she could feel a sting in her heart as she remembered the sheer helplessness she saw on her mother's face. Maybe, just maybe, if Asriel could help her learn the truth about what's happening in her head, she could begin taking steps to fix the problem and 'cure' herself. It was worth a shot, she figured; anything seemed better than being an emotionally broken mess every day.

But Flowey didn't respond, instead opting to turn away and think to himself for a moment. After a few seconds of internal thought, he turned back, flashing his teeth in a wicked scowl and emanating a low hiss from the back of his throat. Frisk took a step back in shock at the sudden violent change in his demeanor, having only seen such anger from him years ago in the underground.

"I have an idea," Flowey growled. "You don't talk about her. _Ever_. You don't have that right, you don't deserve to say her name." He leaned forward and seemingly nipped at the air, before continuing. "In fact, maybe I haven't made this clear enough before: _I do not care about you._ You could fall asleep, choke on your own disgusting snot, and die without warning. And you know what I would do? I would cheer. I'd be dancing around in this god-forsaken pot."

Frisk backed up even further, her back hitting her doorknob and hands instinctively seizing it, ready to swing the door open and dart to the kitchen if need be. Suddenly, she felt an array of vines wrap around her palms and forcefully tie her hands to the doorknob, and she yelped in surprise as ominous white pellets scattered around Flowey's head. Her mind began racing almost as quickly as her heart as she pulled and tugged at the vines securing her wrists behind her back, doing nothing but rubbing the skin of her hands into a painful, sensitive state as she braced her legs against the door. But all of her struggling seemed to do absolutely nothing, and she snapped her head back up at Flowey in horror.

"Oh? Did some stupid part of your brain assume I suddenly couldn't defend myself anymore?" His trademark grin returned to his face as he seemed to dance almost gleefully within his pot. "How cute, you thought I was some helpless little pet trapped in your room. Well, here's something you probably didn't know..."

As he finished his sentence, one of the glowing white orbs above his head suddenly launched directly to Frisk and seared across her left cheek, eliciting a sharp screech from her as she struggled even harder against her bonds, but still to no avail. The mark left by the stray bullet began burning intensely, and Frisk could already feel tears brimming in her eyes from the pain.

" _YOU_ are the pet here, _I_ am the one in control!" Flowey roared, letting a vicious laugh echo out of his mouth and around the walls of the room. As he noticed Frisk readying a cry for help, he aimed another pellet in her direction. "Ah ah ah, we wouldn't want to draw any attention to ourselves, would we? After all, your disgusting friends would probably try to get rid of me, and I'll be gone forever. And for some reason, you don't want that. You'd rather sit here and let me torture you than let me go, because you're even more insane than I am. Now do me a favor and keep it down, we wouldn't want to invite anyone over, would we?"

As Frisk closed her mouth and stayed silent, another pellet soared across the room and cut deeply into her right shoulder, and a yelp of pain escaped her lips as tears began falling down her face. "WOULD WE!?" Flowey screamed.

"... N-no..." she trembled.

Disappointment spread across his face as he heard her answer, a frown replacing his grin and the grip from the vines loosening ever so softly on her hands. "What did you just say?"

Frisk kept her face down, and quietly repeated: "... No..."

"No?" Anger quickly returned to Flowey's face. "NO!?" Three pellets fired in succession, slashing Frisk's lower right thigh and twice across her right cheek. Cries of pain ripped their way out of her throat as she writhed in her bonds.

"Who are you even supposed to be?" he yelled, glaring daggers directly at Frisk as he shouted. "What happened to that stupid kid who wouldn't quit being a stubborn idiot no matter what I did?"

Frisk hung her head, but she didn't respond.

"I've ripped you apart before, I've hit you again and again with everything I had, I repeatedly knocked you down and you kept getting back up, and yet _this_ is what you are now?" He looked her up and down for a moment, his face contorting into one of disgust. "Look at how pathetic you are. Your hair is gross and a mess, your clothes aren't even cleaned or ironed, you have such ugly bags under your eyes every single day, and you don't do _anything_ but sleep and cry! When did you get so pathetic, when did you become such a miserable, useless creature? What happened to that oh-so precious determination of yours?"

"I DON'T KNOW!" Frisk finally roared, snapping her head up and violently ripping her hands out of Flowey's grasp, embedding deep gashes into her skin in the process as the vines shrunk and withered away behind her. She marched closer and closer to him, eyes sunken in and glowing a deep shade of maroon as she hissed, "And you know what else I don't know? Why you're still breathing."

Before he had a chance to react, Flowey suddenly gasped as Frisk forcefully clasped her hands around his neck and began tightly squeezing with all of her might. Pathetic yelps escaped his lips as his stalk wiggled about in vain, leaves slapping at her hands and the floating white pellets fading away as he lost his focus. "A-ack! S-stop!" he cried out, voice raspy and weak. "I-it's me! C-Chara, it's m-me! Please!"

As that name filled the air, Frisk's grip began to loosen as her eyes slowly glossed over into a gentle red hue. Suddenly, a smile slowly spread across her face as she fully opened her hands and let the plant breathe, hard gasps coming from Flowey as he leaned forward and heaved.

" _I know it's you,_ " a voice gently cooed from Frisk.

Flowey, still huffing heavily for air, fixed his gaze on her as he heard the voice. He could clearly tell that it was not that of Frisk's, but of someone else he remembered fondly. "... C-Chara...?" he coughed.

Before the voice could say another word, the red hue in her eyes faded away as Frisk's legs began to wobble, and she quickly threw her arms out to catch herself on the side of her bed as she lost her balance. Shaking, she fell to her knees and took a moment to slow her breathing as she heard Flowey violently coughing above her.

Despite her fragile state of mind, Frisk struggled to understand what had just happened to her, from the sudden burst of seething hatred to the strange soothing calm she felt before speaking in a voice not of her own. But no matter how desperately she wanted to believe otherwise, she knew all too well that this must have had something to do with her, with Chara... but what exactly, she still wasn't sure. She knew she had to ask Flowey, her mind wouldn't feel sane until she had some sort of clarity.

Slowly, using her bed as support, Frisk propped herself up and stood weakly in place. Glancing back at Flowey, she felt her heart sink as she saw his body almost completely hung against the side of his pot and his breathing becoming steady. He looked weak and frail, and she could barely even recognize him as there was no smirk to be seen along his face, no rude comment from him about anything that had just happened, and not a single laugh coming from his mouth. She could still feel the stings along her cheeks and body from where he had struck her, as well as the deep blow to her ego from being so easily tamed and controlled, and yet... she felt pity as she stared down at him. He looked so broken, and in that moment, she didn't see a cruel and evil flower lying motionless in front of her, but the shattered spirit of Asriel.

Despite having a million questions in her head and searing pain all over her body, Frisk did nothing but turn and slowly limp towards her door, gently holding her hands just above her wrists to stop whatever she could of the blood flowing out from the gashes in her skin. She wanted to ask what was wrong with Flowey, she wanted to know what had come over her, she just wanted to know so many things... but she said nothing. She knew that this would be the last time she saw him, that there was no way Toriel would allow her to keep him around when she saw what he had done to her. Limping, bleeding, and rocked to her core with a flurry of different emotions all at one time, she turned back and noticed Flowey's head had shifted, and he was staring solemnly at something sitting on top of her bed. Following his gaze, Frisk felt another sinking in her heart as she laid eyes upon her open sketchbook, thrown without thought when she arrived in her room. Her sketch of Asriel was left wide open for Flowey to see.

She bit her bottom lip. "... A-Asriel... I..."

"Don't," he cut her off, speaking softly with almost no emotion. "Just get out."

Holding herself tightly, Frisk turned away, and without another word, limped out of her room and shut the door behind her.


	4. To Find a Flower

_... So, uh, this is awkward. I haven't updated in what, four months? Yikes._

 _Life kinda shoved itself in my face and I had to put writing on hold while I sorted things out, so a sudden hiatus happened. Sorry to everyone who's been waiting patiently, I hope I won't let you down again!_

 _Well, albeit very late, I'm gonna go ahead and continue now. Okay? Okay._

 _ **Coming Undone  
**_  
 _Chapter Four: To Find a Flower_

* * *

Frisk wasn't used to the silence in her room just yet.

Having spent the last few weeks with the sadistic foliage throwing out a thousand insults a minute, it was remarkably quiet in her room without Flowey's voice filling almost every second. It was strange to wake up in the morning without a rude comment hitting her ears, and even stranger to glance over to her desk and see it completely bare, save for her sketchbook and pencils. If it weren't for her wounds, it would almost be as though he had never existed.

Despite the calm, Frisk had never felt more lost. The day she was attacked and had almost strangled Flowey to death was on a twisted replay in her mind, and she couldn't shake that feeling she had with his throat gripped tightly in her hands... a powerful, almost sensual feeling. The perverse thrill of being in control, of having someone's life literally in her hands and completely at her mercy, with all of the potential to both let him live and end him right then and there. She could've killed him. And in that moment, she wanted to.

The voice in her head, Chara, as she now knew, had been quiet since then. Frisk had spent several nights awake, suffering through both the pain of Flowey's assault on her wrists and face as well as the fear that Chara could assume direct control of her body. For so long, Frisk's mind had been tormenting her with the possibility that there was more to Chara than just a spooky voice within her head, and that terrifying encounter only solidified that fear. As her grip had loosened on Flowey's neck, Frisk felt nothing. It was as if she weren't even there anymore, and yet, she could still hear the voice of Chara, speaking clearly for her victim to hear. Frisk knew now that something was horribly wrong, much more than she had originally thought.

Flowey... no, Asriel was the only one that would know what to do. She had to see him again.

Of course, she had absolutely no way of knowing just where he was, or if he were even still alive. Having been stuck bed-ridden while waiting for her wounds to heal and under constant supervision from her mother, Frisk was helpless to track down Flowey's whereabouts, and asking Toriel was definitely out of the question. With the effort her mother had gone through in recent days to ensure Frisk had no idea what had become of him after his assault on her, the chances of Toriel giving even the slightest hint as to Flowey's fate was practically non-existent. Even still, Frisk couldn't give up. She was determined to reach him and make sure he was alright... both of their fates depended on it.

"... Dear, did you hear me?"

Frisk's face darted up with an expression of dumbfounded surprise and absentmindedness. She had been too busy jotting down ideas and notes in her sketchbook and had completely missed what she was just asked... that is, _if_ she had even been asked anything. She pursed her lips and gave an awkward shrug, hoping Toriel would take it as a weird sign that she had been paying close attention.

Unsurprisingly, it didn't work. "Frisk, please. I understand you are focused on your writing, but I need you to answer me." Toriel placed the warm bowl of soup she held delicately in her hands just atop the desk beside her daughter's bed, before leaning closer and carefully examining the medical gauze plastered onto Frisk's cheeks. "Do these still hurt?"

Frisk gently nudged her shoulder against the side of her jaw and applied pressure, scrunching her face up at the mild burning she felt. "A little."

"Well, that is certainly a step up from last week, is it not?" Toriel smiled. Seeing her daughter give a weak smile of her own in response, she furrowed her eyebrows and carefully sat along the edge of Frisk's bed. "Is... something troubling you, dear?"

Gently clutching her blanket, Frisk tensed her body as she stared nervously into her mother's eyes, completely unsure of what to say. She'd been through this song and dance countless times before, and yet, try as she might, the words just refused to leave her mouth. Despite everything that had happened, she couldn't bring herself to admit to her mother all that had been endlessly cycling through her head, from the guilt she felt over failing to keep Flowey from spending his days all alone, to the constant fear and stress she was under due to Chara's potential influence. She knew she should tell her mother, but having seen the emotional pain Toriel had been in after laying eyes on the damage Flowey had done, Frisk couldn't bare to even imagine how she'd react to it all.

And so, even still, she decided to hide behind her metaphorical wall. "Um... just, miss everyone," the young teen sighed.

Toriel frowned. "My child, I have said before that your friends are very worried and wish to see you, but you always seem so hesitant."

"Don't feel like talking," Frisk shrugged, reaching over in an attempt to pick up the soup at the end of her desk but coming up just a few inches short.

Toriel hummed quietly to herself as she carefully lifted the bowl and placed it gently in her daughter's lap. "Deep as your wounds may be, I am certain you have rested enough to see them again. Why not invite them over for dinner?" she suggested, smiling brightly. "If nothing else, it would greatly ease their minds. You do not speak to them as often as you used to, it seems."

Frisk winced. What would her friends think? They had only ever seen the happy side of her, all of the positives she had when she first met them; her mercy, her friendship, her smile... how would they react to hear of such dark thoughts brewing within her mind? What would they say when she admits to crying herself to sleep every night from the terrors haunting her every dream, or the horrible whispers of gruesome acts of violence that would echo in her ears? Would they even be able to help? She wasn't sure, and it terrified her to even think about. "... Still hurts," she mumbled, motioning to the medical gauze on her face. "Maybe later..?"

Frisk could feel the hint of exasperation coming from her mother as Toriel let out a deep sigh and rubbed at her temples. After a moment of internal though, the older woman huffed and glanced back at her daughter with a weak grin. "... Well, do keep it in mind, dear. And please mind the soup, your sheets were cleaned this morning."

"Mmmff hummff," Frisk garbled, mouth full of noodles.

With a giggle, Toriel leaned close and kissed her daughter's forehead before lifting herself off of the bed and clasping her hands together. "I have some writing to do in my diary before bed, remember to call out for me if you need anything." And with that, she gave the teen one more smile before turning and making her way out of the room, quietly closing the door behind her.

As soon as her mother's footsteps echoed far enough away down the hall, Frisk almost choked on the noodles in her mouth at the sudden realization: Toriel's diary! She had recently began to write down the day's events and her personal thoughts every night, maybe there would be a passage about what she did with Flowey? There was a chance, and a chance was all the motivation Frisk needed as she hastily slid the soup onto the nearby desk and tore her way through her sketchbook, immediately jotting down notes and brainstorming perfect opportunities to sneak into her mother's room.

As her clock struck 3AM, Frisk was startled awake by the buzzing of her phone directly underneath her pillow. With a groan, she lazily dug under the cushion to drag the device out, and as she gazed at the hour with tired eyes, a sudden flurry of butterflies began to swarm within her stomach. She sat up and gave her back a much needed stretch, running the details of her personal mission through her head a few more times; by all accounts, sneaking into Toriel's room and taking a peek in her diary shouldn't have made her so nervous, but the act itself wasn't the issue. When was the last time she had done something against her mother's trust, especially to invade her privacy in an attempt to directly disobey her? Pretty much never, she realized, and along with that revelation came bubbling excitement. She knew it was wrong to do this, but, somehow, it almost felt... great.

It was now or never, Frisk told herself. Quickly rubbing her sleeves over her eyes and flinging her blanket off, she quietly snaked her body out of bed and shook her feet into the soft pink slippers on the floor just beside her desk. With the phone firmly in her grip and a slight hesitation in each step, the young teen gently pushed her way out of the door and began the quiet trek through the hallways in the dead silence of the night.

And silent it was. Despite the muffled whisper of the wind just outside, she could distinctly hear every creak of the floorboard beneath her as she paced farther away from the comfort of her room. She cursed under her breath as darkness blanketed the house from her sight - feeling as if the moon decided to hide away behind the clouds tonight, of all nights, as a cryptic sign that she was making a mistake - and the desire to just turn back and crawl into bed grew stronger with every step she took. But her determination couldn't be swayed, and her quiet pace only quickened as she thought more and more about what turning back would mean... no, she _needed_ to see Flowey again, to talk with him about everything and figure out just what she had to do to feel sane again. Her mother couldn't understand.

Face-to-face with the door to Toriel's room, Frisk could feel the pace of her heart suddenly leap in anticipation. She tapped her phone to life and lifted it just above herself to light the way, and with careful, quiet hands, turned the doorknob and crept into the room.

There was a candle lit just beside Toriel's bed, the flame licking at the sides of the glass and peppering the room with the fresh scent of cinnamon. Frisk could make out the shape of her mother under her blanket, shifting ever so slightly with every peaceful breath she took as she slept on, unperturbed.

Now on the tip of her toes, Frisk carefully slid through the small crack she left in the door, leaving it ajar for her return trip. She bit her lip as she silently snuck around the bed, eyes fixated on the shape of her mother, and lifted her phone to search the top of Toriel's dresser at the end of the room. No diary in sight. Muffling a growl under her breath, she knelt down and gently opened each drawer as quietly as she could, cringing at every small creak the furniture made as she jumped from one to another in an almost frantic search for the book. Sweat threatened to trickle down her forehead as she discovered nothing but assorted clothes and tangled jewlery, and as seconds turned to minutes of ruffling through socks and pajamas, Frisk could feel her drive fading and the urge to flee growing stronger and stronger. As she swore to herself to leave after one more failed attempt, she shoved yet another folded dress aside before hitting her hand against something solid. As her fingers grazed what could only be paper, her face lit up as pure glee and relief trembled through her body. Finally!

Frisk checked behind herself once more to gauge her mother's unconscious status and, after confirming her to still be knee-deep in dreamland, slid the diary atop the dresser and hovered the dim-lit screen of her phone over the cover. Sure enough, carved with precise fire magic, was Toriel's name, and Frisk couldn't contain the sly grin from stretching over her face. Should she be feeling this excited, when she knew what she was doing was all kinds of wrong? Maybe not, but the rebellious urge she felt couldn't be stopped, and without hesitation, she flung the book open and skimmed through with her thumb to reach the newest written page. Another quick glance at the bed, and she began to read the passage:

 _"My Dearest Diary,_

 _Once again, I... cannot tell you how it feels to see scars on Frisk's face. Has it been one week already? Looking back, it indeed has. Strange how time soars by so quickly. But I digress. The injuries are healing just fine, but I cannot help but hurt inside every time I see bandages covering her precious face. My sweet daughter, how I hate to see you in such pain..."_

Frisk swallowed hard, taking a moment to swipe one hand across her eye. _You're on a secret spy mission, don't you dare cry,_ she mentally scolded herself. Skimming the rest of the page, she realized there was no mention of Flowey to be had anywhere else in the passage, and she quickly flipped over to a previous page and glazed over the words at a feverish pace. Again, nothing. With a quiet groan of annoyance, she repeated the process almost five times before immediately stopping as she caught sight of the name she'd been looking for. She began reading from the beginning of the passage:

 _"Dear Diary,_

 _Frisk has been drawing the flower again. I can see glimpses of it as she brings her sketchbook to the table (she still refuses to keep it away during dinner time, that stubborn teenager). I worry about her, her wounds are slowly healing but the bandages can only do so much before they need to be replaced... oh, how I despise doing so. Seeing blood on her, it never ceases to rock me to my core. I cannot stand it. But, of course, no one said a mother's job was easy. I refuse to be swayed from my duty to protect and watch over her until the day I die._

 _Ah, of course, I am distracted. Indeed, the flower is still on her mind it seems. I wish I could understand, but no matter what I try, I cannot fathom her decision to savor its memory... the creature was nothing but terrible to her. She argued valiantly time and time to keep it with her despite my efforts, but as you know, I would not allow that wretched monster to hurt her ever again. There are times where I do find myself wondering just what it does among the other golden flowers underground... likely yelling at itself, I would imagine."_

And there it was. Frisk reread the line several times over to be sure her mind wasn't playing tricks on her: Among the other golden flowers underground. So her mother hadn't killed him, he was still very much alive... and now she knew exactly where.

Frisk tossed her hand up in a silent fist-pump of celebration, before quickly shutting the diary and slipping it back where she had found it within Toriel's drawer. With her mission a success, she began to tip-toe her way back out of the room, eyes carefully watching her mother's still body until she finally reached the door. With one last triumphant grin, she quietly nudged it open, and snaked her body through while gently letting it close behind her.

The young teen let her mind wander as she made her way back down the hallway and towards her room. Flowey was alive and had been sent back to the underground, likely where she had first fallen all those years ago, given Toriel's description of him being among the other golden flowers. She bit her lip absentmindedly; it wasn't a very short walk to get back to Mount Ebott, especially on foot. The mountain would take about thirty minutes of hiking just to reach, let alone the extra effort she'd need to put forth to travel from where the barrier had once been all the way back to Toriel's old home... and she certainly wasn't keen on the idea of taking a 'shortcut' through the gaping hole she had slipped into on her first visit underground.

As she kicked off her slippers and hopped back into bed, her mind was racing far too much to let her drift to sleep any time soon. With a new purpose, Frisk snatched her sketchbook from the desk beside her and began to plan out her first visit back underground, to where it had all started. She had to see Flowey again, there was no other option...

... Their souls could very well depend on it.


End file.
